


I can be your everything

by Butterhawk



Series: I'm the one you need and fear [1]
Category: Damnation (TV)
Genre: Derogatory Language, Duvall is a dirty mofo, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced, M/M, Threats, candy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterhawk/pseuds/Butterhawk
Summary: “Creeley, I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”“Good news.” The cowboy answered after a short think.“An important position in my family's organization... just opened up.”“And the bad news?”“Bad news is; You’ll be too busy with something else to apply.”Well fuck.~~Mr. Duvall and Mr. Eggers Hyde take Creeley for a ride in the car in the dark where they make stop on a field.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eargh! What's wrong with me? I can't watch anything without my mind making it dirty.

When Turner climbed out of the automobile with Tennyson Duvall and Martin Eggers Hyde he didn’t know what to expect, especially being out on a field.

They were probably going to kill him and he’s glad he got Bessie out of the door, even though her last look almost broke his heart. He hated himself for yelling at her but it was for her own good. He definitely didn’t want Eggers to get her, Or Duvall with his contraptions.

In the car, the wheels in his head kept turning, forming and discarding plans, trying to figure out how to make it out of this mess, if that even was a possibility any more?

Maybe he deserved this? Maybe it was the ending he was always meant to have seeing as he’d been a shitty kid and an even shitier brother. The fact was; he’s been shit at most things and the choices he’s made had always made someone suffer.

There’s no wonder he was fucked up though, an evil shit for a father and a soft mother he’d never seen in anything else than her underwear.

The whores had spoiled him with kisses and hugs, not ever treating him like a man but as a treasured pet. They dressed him up in silks, curled his hair and put makeup on him. They called him Cupcake, Doll, Peaches, Sugar Plum and what not.

The problem is; Creeley had loved it. They had stuffed him full of sweets; Milk Duds, Butter Cups from Reese’s and his favorites; Goo Goo Clusters - fluffy marshmallow covered in Caramel and Peanuts with milk chocolate on top. He’d sit in the lap of one of the whores, listening to them talking about their johns while they were combing his hair.

It was a pleasant life without much worry, but he never did learn how to read or write.

Then Gram Turner came along, wanting to raise his boys together, start a family business, who knows? Maybe he just wanted someone younger to knock around?

~~~

“Creeley, I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”  
“Good news.” The cowboy answered after a short think.  
“An important position in my family's organization... just opened up.”  
“And the bad news?”  
“Bad news is; You’ll be too busy with something else to apply.”

Well fuck.

Tennyson turned towards him, the gun in his hand still smoking and a hardness in his eyes that Creeley hadn’t noticed before.

He wasn’t the man with the funny machine; created to give women better orgasms so they, in turn, could be better housewives.  
No. He was a threat, someone all together ruthless and cold, not just faking it like Turner was and had been for years.

 

Creeley could do nothing else but stare as the other raised the gun and pointed it at his head. Duvall’s mouth moved but Creeley heard nothing, forcing the rich bastards to say it again:  
“On your knees Mr. Turner!”

~~~

His father had liked beating him. But he really had enjoyed surprising Creeley with his violence, hitting when the soft kid thought he was out of the woods, so to speak. Always with the excuse that he was toughening him up. Turning him into a man, bludgeoning the whore out of him. That fat, pudgy kid he ever so often wondered really could be his.

~~~

“I’ve done some digging, Mr. Turner. It seems your mother had quite a reputation at the cat house Slooshes. What was her name, Belle? You must have picked up some pointers on how to please a man?”

Creeley has a sinking feeling, looking up at the revolver Duvall had brought with him. He felt a chill as the other reached for his belt to unbuckle it, and he remembered how his father used to slowly pull the belt out of the loops on his pants like it either turned him on or maybe he just wanted Creeley to suffer as long as he could.

Was the other going to give him a thrashing like Gram?

“Open your flytrap, Mr. Turner. I want to see if you’re as good at sucking cock as your whore mother was said to be. Come on Creeley, a honey cooler, right here..”

He hadn’t even bothered to button up, just pulled the fly down and grabbed the semi-erect penis from inside his y-briefs and pulled it out. A fat thing, thick and mean like it meant business.

For a few seconds there the cowboy was speechless. Men didn’t do this! He didn’t do this! What the fuck was wrong with the highborn?! Women were hookers, men were not. Besides, the dead body of Eggers Hyde was lying right there! A stupid look on his face like even in death he was unable to understand why Duvall shot him.

“With all due respect, Mr—!”  
“Shut your cock hole Creeley and suck me.”  
He uncocked the revolver before he nudged the kneeling man's head as a final warning.

It was the single most weird thing Creeley had done. The strangest thing he’d ever had in his mouth. Tennyson made a sound low in his throat, grabbed his short hair with his free hand and sighed as he moaned.

The smell was heavy, the taste.. not really nice but not too bad either. It was salty, slimy and for fuck sake! He had a dick in his mouth!

When he tried to pull back Tennyson forced the member further in and Turner could feel it against the back, coughed and choked, grabbing the thighs in front of him to push him off harder.

“Don’t fight me, whore! Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat and get used to it. That’s right, just like that... Good girl."

He didn’t last long even though Creeley did nothing else but suck. Bessie would twirl her tongue, lick it like it was a lollipop with her eyes trained on his.

The problem was Duvall not wanting to pull out and the cowboy coughed again, gagged on the warm sperm entering his throat when the high born pinched his nose together; smothering him for sure.

“Swallow.” Came his order but Creeley tried shaking his head. This ordeal had limits! Eating another man's cum is where he drew the line.  
But Tennyson kept holding on, the muzzle of the gun pressing against Turner's head.

“Swallow it. Swallow it! Thaaat’s right.. all of it, open up, show me your mouth, that’s a good good girl.”

Humiliation burned in the kneeling cowboy and he felt tears filling up the eyes, threatening to fall. This was worse than anything his father had done, none of his beatings had made him so ashamed.

Duvall placed a hand on his cheek, stroked him ever so gently, his thumb pulling slightly on his lower lip.

“You can’t hide from me Peaches. I know your past, Belle and the whores, hell, I ever know you did everything they asked you to if they offered you a Goo Goo Cluster.”

“I’m not a kid anymore…”

“True, but you’re going to be mine all the same. I’m going to dress you up in silk panties, let your hair grow long and curly. Lipstick smeared from sucking on my cock whenever I ask you… my whore. “

“No.”

“No?” Tennyson crooked his head and gave him a nasty smile with way too many teeth. “Then I will have them all killed, your brother, Bessie, those old broads from Slooshes with the fond memories of you. You know I’ll do it.”

This again, always doing things he didn’t want for the sake of others. He hadn’t had much choice though when Seth framed him for murder but he still loved him. How could he not? They were brothers.

“I’m surprised you didn’t threaten to throw me back in jail.”  
“I’m hurt you'd think I'd do that. I am a man of my word. You ended the strike and earned your get-out-of-jail-card. But what to do with that freedom? No brother, no Bessie…?”

He was putting himself back into his pants but stopped to dry off the saliva on his penis on Creeley’s face. A cruel smirk on his lips.

“Let me sweeten that deal for you, doll. I’ll buy Bessie that house she’s always wanted. Big enough for her to have her white sheriff dad and black canary mother over. Big enough for her to have kids running around in, maybe even grandkids, who knows the health of old colored tramps these days? All you need to do is say it. Say you’ll be -my- whore and I’ll feed you chocolate and ice cream daily, fatten you up real, real nice. I’ll even dip my Johnson in melted DeMet Turtles so you’ll really have something to enjoy.”

Creeley closed his eyes. He really didn’t want that disgusting mental picture right now, not when he was trying to think.

Duvall could just grab him. Was it so important for the patricians fucked up fantasy that he came “willingly”? He could see Bessie on a porch surrounded by kids. She deserved to be happy but he’d hoped that whatever children she'd bear in the future would be his.

“Tick tock cupcake..”  
“Ngh...! Wait! Give me a second to think!”  
“What’s there to think about? You want them dead or looked after?” Tennyson was losing his patience and let go of Turner just to pull out a fancy pocket watch.

Turner felt himself go weak, he still tasted Duvall's cock in his mouth and his face was tight with drying saliva mixed with cum. Fuck! He needed to stall this, maybe think of another plan. Tennyson had to sleep just like any mortal and that’s when he’ll kill him.

“I’ll do it. I’ll be your whore.”


	2. It’s time to earn your keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is ringing in his ears and he feels so raw like every nerve on him is exposed.   
> “I—“
> 
> “Shhh, no talking, not yet.”
> 
> This is dangerous, he has to resist whatever this was if he were to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the grammar, my native tongue is Swedish.

A dick has a mind of its own. Creeley Turner knows this. Yet he can’t help but feel betrayed when his own is starting to stand at attention in Duvall's soft hand. 

~~~

He had been shown a bed when they had arrived at the Duvall mansion late at night. It had been the single most comfortable one he’s ever slept in and even when he tried not to close his eyes, he had fallen asleep within minutes. 

 

He had been awoken late in the morning by a woman with a breakfast tray. The food was plentiful and excellent and he enjoyed it while he’d been looking around the room. 

 

He hadn’t known the name of the style the room was decorated in. It was light and spacious, heavily decorated, stucco in the ceiling. Antebellum? Was that the word? Was it even a word? Like old southern plantations. 

 

Turner had half expected a woman in a flowery crinoline dress to walk in any minute. She would have fit right in. Instead, it was him sitting there eating bacon and eggs. A dainty cup of tea next to him. 

 

The room was large, the ceiling ridiculous. There were two doors to the right of him that looked sturdy though painted in pale pink with casing around them. It had a hardwood floor and thick rugs were placed tastefully around. 

 

Why was he even there? Had everything been a dream? Had he knocked his head somewhere only to be found by some rich people?

 

When Tennyson Duvall had entered it had all come flooding back and he had almost tossed his food back up again. 

 

“Rise and shine, my pretty girl. It’s time to get clean.”  
He had a cigarette stuck to his lip as he walked to the second room, which turned out to be a bath and filled up the tub. There was a bar of Lux on a stool next to the bathtub and a brush like he had planned to scrub Turner raw. 

~~~

“I expect you to bathe every day. I’m going to punish you if you don’t comply. I’ll even go out of my way to get real creative, just for you.”

 

The machine.

 

Creeley doesn’t want to think about it but now he can’t think of anything but while going soft in the other man's hand. 

 

“That’s not a good whore…” Tennyson removes his hand, wiping it off at a towel next to him. The bathroom is impressive though more fitting for a lady than a man. 

 

There is tension in the air. A sinister dare. It’s like he’s silently demanding Turner to go hard again or suffer the consequences. 

 

Creeley can’t. He’s naked in a bathtub with another man crouched next to him, albeit it’s on the outside. But still.

 

Tennyson is still in his clothes, the arms on his shirt are folded up to keep them from getting wet and he’s still smoking his cigarette. 

 

The sudden grip in his hair is so painful and sudden that he winces. His head is being forced back to allow access to Duvall's mouth, smoke still clinging to his lips as he leans forward, sucking on the skin like he wants the salt or at least to mark him.  
He then nibbles the skin before licking the earlobe, tugging on it with his teeth before letting go with a groan. 

 

“It’s your first day here, I suppose I should go easy on you. Don’t-take-it-for-granted.” He pats his cheek hard enough for Creeley’s eyes to burn, uttering a word between each one with a sort of sneer. 

 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want that mouth of yours again, Turner. It’s time to earn your keep.”

 

Tennyson straightens and starts quickly unbuttoning his pants. Creeley stares down at the soapy water.  
‘Earn his keep’? Wasn’t he here to keep people from dying? It wasn’t his choice to be with this sick fuck!

 

“I’m… not ready? I’m not done bathing.” anything to buy him some more time, to keep him from having to do that heinous act again. 

 

“I don’t give a doodly-squat about what you don’t want. Here, open up!” He rubs the tip of his cock against Creeley's mouth. It’s hardening but it’s still sort of soft. Fat with sticky wetness that tastes... weird. 

 

Turner tries turning away but the grip is back in his hair. He thinks about biting it, about running away.   
But he can’t remember where they went in the dark in the car. What halls they walked through and how many stairs they climbed to get to this room. 

 

“Creeley!” Duvall tugs on his hair. “Open your mouth, suck on it or choke on it. It’s your choice.”

 

Tentatively he parts his lips, tries hard not to lick but can't stop the reflex and hears a heavy groan from the other. 

 

“That’s it, that’s a good girl…” 

He can do this, hold his breath, pretend that’s not pubes against his nose, it’s not a dick in his mouth. Just keep it open and let him do what he wants and it will be over soon enough. 

 

No.

No, fuck!

 

“Mmphm!!” He tries pulling back but Tennyson keeps pushing in, over and over, grunting before spilling his seed, his balls pulsing.

 

“Swallow. Swallow! You know this, you know that’s what I like, girl. That’s right. Take it aaall. You’ll be begging for it soon enough.”

 

When he finally let’s go, Turner is coughing, his lips swollen and buzzing, his lungs aching for air. He spits and dries his mouth on the back of his hand. Tennyson is petting his head, mumbling things that send chills down Creeley’s back. 

 

“Wash yourself, Turner. I’m going to fetch you things to wear.” 

 

Creeley wants to rinse his mouth with the soapy water. He’s feeling queasy and sighs heavily as he continues to wash, dreading what is to come.   
He has to get out, get Bessie, his brother and his wife and get the hell out of dodge. 

 

Surely Duvall will stop following them at the state line? He can’t be worth the hassle? 

 

He can hear Duvall moving in the adjacent room, pulling out drawers, opening up a closet and closing it again before he appears at the door again with a small pile of folded things. Blush colored. How does he know? Bessie used to speak of it. It’s not enough to be an actual outfit, pants, shirt, socks, and shoes? A belt or suspenders? Anything?

 

It’s something silky and Turner frowns as the other man puts it near the door and picks up a big towel. “Stand.”

 

Turner does what he’s told but places a hand over his cock in what he thinks is a casual way but Tennyson only chuckles. “Remove that, you’re mine. No need to be embarrassed, whore, soon I will have touched every inch of you. Come here, I’ll dry you off.”

 

He steps out of the bathtub and water pools around his wet feet. It continues to drop from his body, clinging to some places more than others. He keeps his eyes low as he doesn’t want Tennyson to get a whiff of his thoughts. 

Can he take Duvall on, one on one? He has to admit that the other man was taller, all though only slightly. He seems bigger built. Still, he doesn’t use his body for much manual work, does he? His hands were too soft to belong to a worker.

 

Standing close enough to let Duvall dry him, Turner knows he’s fucked. The other man seems muscular in a way he knows he himself can never be. Like a heavyweight boxer of some kind.

 

How?

“Like what you see, Turner?”

 

Creeley feels flustered and looks away. It doesn’t matter what he says, he’s damned anyway. A ‘no’ will only serve him as a ‘lady doth protest too much’ but he can’t say nothing either, right?

 

“I was wondering if I can take you in a fight…”

 

Tennyson goes very still and Creeley feels his stomach lurch before the rich man snorts and continues with drying Turner’s hair.   
“And what does your head tell you?”

 

He doesn’t want to answer that. Not honestly. His pride won’t let him.   
This is too surreal, he wants to curl up and scream until he can’t anymore. Cry in despair and hatred over what has become of his life. 

 

He knows only two days have passed and he usually doesn’t sweat the small stuff. But this feels final. Like he knows death won’t be the end of it and all that awaits him is a long and painful torment. Something so god-awful that he’ll beg to die or maybe be transformed into a perverted, dirty degenerate? Either way, he won’t be the man that Bessie loves, will he?

 

Tennyson seems pleased with his silence like he can read Turner’s answer in it. He rubs him down with the towel before pulling him closer to take a long sniff on his neck, brushing his nose up to Creeley’s jawline where he licks slowly. “God, you taste so good…” 

 

Strong hands grip Turner’s wrists, locking his arms to his sides like Tennyson doesn’t trust him and then there is wetness on his chest, around a nipple, teeth that tugs and lips sucking. A tongue flicks it taut before moving over to the other one and Turner clench his teeth while pressing his eyes shut, feeling the cold air so vividly now. 

 

Duvall’s stubble is scrubbing him raw, his hands holding on tighter the more excited he seems to make himself. Turner can feel, rather than see how the other gets to his knees, light from the windows suddenly against his eyelids. It’s turning the view from dark to red, peeling away some of the more suppressing feelings of dread and disaster.

 

Tennyson seems to be admiring his pubes, nuzzling his face in it, breathing in the heavy smell mixed with the soap and if Turner just keeps his eyes closed and thinks of Bessie, then this is good. 

 

Almost. 

 

Warmth engulfed him. 

 

He has done this before, Duvall. He must have. The way he’s fondling him, stroking the shaft and twisting his grip as he sucks. Jesus fuck! It feels amazing, rivaling any whore in technique. Succeeding in the utter lust that’s behind the flat tongue that’s chasing and capturing precum leaking out of the tip lol it’s ambrosia. 

 

Turner has no choice but to grab Duvall’s shoulders to keep from falling over. He doesn’t know when the kneeling man let go of his wrists but then again he can’t seem to be able to think coherent thoughts. 

 

He wants to hate this and he does. In a way. His dick loves it and he doesn’t last long when a hand starts massaging the balls.   
He climaxes with a strangled shout, his load more massive than it's ever been but Duvall just keeps going until Turner jerks from being over sensitive and collapses into muscular arms. 

 

There is ringing in his ears and he feels so raw like every nerve on him is exposed.   
“I—“

 

“Shhh, no talking, not yet.”

 

This is dangerous, he has to resist whatever this was if he were to escape.


	3. Are you eating it or not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then you eat it! Eat it and say I did it. ‘It’s not that difficult’” He mimics her.  
> This is insane, arguing about who is to eat a come-covered fudge cake. If Turner hadn’t been wearing lingerie then maybe he even could have laughed over the absurdity of it all.  
> But certainly not now.

Duvall eventually pulls out a pocket watch and sighs. “As much as I'd love to spend the day here with you, I have matters to attend. I’ll dress you and then be off.” 

 

Turner still feels weak at the knees like all his energy got sucked out through his dick. He’s sitting on the floor as the other dresses him in the most ridiculous of things. 

 

A blush colored garter belt with white lace, silk stockings that somehow fit and satin french knickers on top, looking like sort of tap panties and in a shade that goes with the garters. He would love it on Bessie. Not so much on himself. 

 

Creeley feels so dirty that he doesn’t stand to look at it and he shudders as the silky fabric brush against his genitals. 

 

Was there no end to this humiliation? 

 

“Look at that… I’ll be thinking about this all day. “

 

“Please don’t” Creeley suddenly mutters before he can stop himself and feels the sting from his ass being slapped. First one then two times more, leaving his cheeks burning. 

 

“Say you are my whore.”

“I’m not goin— ow! Jesus fuck! OW! Mr. Duvall, please…” 

“Say it. And that you will eagerly await my return.” 

 

Is this the fantasy? That he’s ‘the other woman’? Faithfully awaiting her lover? He looks up at Tennyson again only to find that unhinged look on him again. 

 

“Your whore will eagerly await your return…” 

 

“And who’s that?” He raises his eyebrows, daring Turner to fuck this up, his hand hovering. 

 

“Me. I’m your whore. “

 

“Good girl, Turner. I’ll make sure you get something yummy for dessert.” He caresses the butt lovingly instead. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but alas.” The hand goes to the insides of his thighs, gently. He’s about to pull Turner into his arms but the cowboy pulls back and stands up on his own. 

 

Tennyson then leans in like he wants a kiss but Creeley turns his face away. 

 

Duvall's blue eyes tighten.  
“Fine. I'll see you later.”  
He locks the door after he leaves and Turner goes straight for the windows to check them out. 

 

They can’t be opened, they are even crossed over with decorative bars so even if he were to smash them, he won’t be able to climb out. 

 

Fuck his luck. 

 

Now what? 

 

He continues to look around, eventually rifling through drawers with his “clothes” and finding nothing that is even remotely close to decent.  
Eventually, he even gets bored. 

 

There are some books on a shelf but Turner doesn’t know how to read. It was the main reason why he met with Bessie in the first place. She knew how. It seemed easy for her too. She just picked up things here and there before putting them together. 

 

The hours pass slowly while he lies on the bed, feeling the sun on his skin like a warm blanket. Not too hot but just right. He dozed off only to wake up thinking there was someone in the room. 

 

It never was. Eventually, he stops jumping at every noise which is of course when Duvall comes back home and trailing behind him is the woman who served his breakfast. She’s wheeling a bar cart with her, filled with food and candy. 

 

Although Creeley tried very hard not to look at it, his sweet tooth eventually won over him and while he got up to take a look Tennyson took a step back, smiling like he just knew he’d made the first choice. 

 

Just because Creeley didn’t know how to read doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the names of the things he always craves; Sugar Babies, 3 musketeers, Snickers and Chic-O-Stick. 

 

There were even Babe Ruths, Sherbet fountain, Reese’s peanut butter cups, Cherry Mash and Goo Goo Clusters.  
He wiped his mouth in what he hoped was a casual manner. Had he started to drool?

 

“Do you really think I can eat all this and what’s that? Dinner?” 

 

“Skip dinner, eat the candy. I just want to watch you stuff yourself. Or better yet, let me feed you.” 

They sat down on the bed and Tennyson dragged the cart closer to him and grabbed one of the chocolate bars, unwrapped it so slowly that Creely just wanted to shake the man. 

 

After the first few bites, Duvall got bored and he really started to cram it in, letting chunks fall outside and candy to cling to his lips, mustache cheeks. He allowed it to melt before wiping it on Creeley's naked chest, leaning in to lick it off. 

 

The cherry candy was a small chocolate bar that was made of a soft fondant maraschino cherry center and covered with milk chocolate and chopped roasted peanuts. Duvall put one in his mouth before forcing Turner to kiss. Sloppy and sweet, making the drool brown and sticky. 

 

The evening passed like that and in the end Creeley felt sick but content. He was put in bed with the blankets pulled up over his shoulders before the other got out and locked the door. 

 

—-

 

The next morning he got up before that woman came in with breakfast.  
He really should ask for her name instead of referring to her as ‘that woman’, he thought as he made his way to the bathroom and seeing himself in the grand mirror. 

 

There was chocolate everywhere and it looked absolutely disgusting. 

 

Then there was the tub again. It had clawfeet and rose higher where he was supposed to rest his back. It had been comfy and without Duvall, he might even enjoy it.  
Turner looked around for some way to signal that he wanted water when it hits him.

Indoor plumbing.  
This was wild and he felt like an idiot but he had never seen it! He had heard about it, sure. But hearing about it and actually having it in front of you are two very different things.

Turner hadn't really thought about it yesterday, only figured someone had filled up the tub while he was asleep, now he was sitting on the floor next to the tub, fiddling with the faucet. 

He could get used to this.

 

———

 

He was napping on the bed in the warm sunlight that came through the window without making it too hot when the door unlocked and the woman was there again, this time with a young man standing behind her. 

 

Creeley pulled the covers over his legs and felt his stomach drop, even if she was carrying a tray with food again. 

 

“Oh, never mind Peter. He’s just here to keep you from doing something dumb.” 

 

“I think it’s too late for that.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I’m here, aren’t I? “ he deadpanned and signed, watching the food she was carrying and gently placing so that he could eat in bed.  
“It is southern style barbecued chicken with potato salad.” She looked pleased as she said it.  
No doubt she was also the cook. 

 

“There is a dessert afterward. I’ll bring it later since the master said I had to stay and see if you eat it.”

 

“What? What even is it?”

 

“Chocolate fudge cake.”

 

“He needs you to watch me stuff my face?”

 

She does a face that Turner can’t read, a cringe maybe or something similar?  
He’s not sure what to make of it really and tries pushing it out of his mind so he at least can enjoy this. 

 

It is good food. He’s been living on whatever is the cheapest and also what fills his stomach the best. Except for that time he’s gotten ice cream.  
Yeah, that had been the highlight of the fucking week. 

 

He eats faster than he wants to, not sure when that woman and her Peter will be back for the plate and ends up having to wait a while.  
Turner still hasn’t given up the thought of escaping this place, he might never but he can’t help but plan ahead, routines he might get to keep him from going insane. 

 

Maybe Duvall will be here every day, maybe just every other or once a week? He’ll get bored soon enough if it’s up to Turner.  
The door unlocks and there is that woman again, bringing him the chocolate cake before stepping back, towards the door, clasping her hands in front of her.

 

“I have to watch you eat it or tell the master you didn’t.”

 

“I see..”  
It’s a chocolate fudge cake, topped with chocolate ganache and something else. Something white and drying. Is that…? It’s fucking semen, isn’t it?!

 

“This is fucking disgusting. How can you serve me this?!”

“Says the man wearing that…”

“It’s not by choice!”

“Are you eating it or not?”

“Are you letting me out or not?...”

“No.” She answers firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest as if making a statement. 

“If I don’t eat this?”

“I’ll tell the master.”

“If I eat around it?”

“I’ll tell the master.”

 

“... Then do it, tell the master.” He’s about to throw it at the door but decides he’ll gain nothing from making an enemy out of her. She’s the one who has to clean it up, he suspects. So he hands it back to her.

 

But the woman shakes her head, not wanting to give up on Duvall's wishes just yet.  
“Just eat it, it’s not that difficult.”

 

“Then you eat it! Eat it and say I did it. ‘It’s not that difficult’” He mimics her.  
This is insane, arguing about who is to eat a come-covered fudge cake. If Turner hadn’t been wearing lingerie then maybe he even could have laughed over the absurdity of it all.  
But certainly not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrrmmm.


End file.
